


Tainted Lies

by HyperKey



Series: Tainted [4]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: AU, Emotional, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKey/pseuds/HyperKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion to Chapter 3 of Tainted Souls. You should read that one first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why i wrote it... but I guess since Tainted Souls is written in John's PoV, there are some things that get lost along the way.  
> I like writing stuff like this.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :3  
> Always love comments~

Jack was pacing through the tiny apartment, eyes turned away from the windows, a place he hated so much. It was too small, there was no room to breathe. The city from up here was loud, sirens could constantly be heard, planes, people yelling. He could barely stand it.. There was still a bunch of work to be done, exams to be looked through, lessons to be prepared. He couldn't bear to look at the stack of work.

His hands were shaking, even though he had them tightly clasped around a framed picture. The cat he had taken in not too long ago was napping on the couch, oblivious to him battling something he hadn't fought in a long time.  He had tried everything to keep memories from flashing at him, every little trick he knew. And it had worked until now. Now it all came back full force, making him feel cold, and  chest feel tight even though he knew it was physically impossible.

There was so much he tried to hide when he was out there. Nothing had really changed at all. He still pretended to be someone he wasn't and this time he was willingly doing it. But now the memories that threatened to eat him alive weren't of wars and murder. They were about his family, about happy days he missed so much, and of the hatred he felt for the people who forced him to be away from them.

The pain in his chest wasn't real,  but it felt like it. He wanted to scream at it, fill his mind with more little lies. It was just for a short time after all. It would work out in the end, but he couldn't stnad lying to himself anymore.

It wouldn't work out. He wouldn't see them again. Not in the way he wanted to. He could only watch, couldn't be part of  the lives of the people he loved so much. He clenched his teeth, picture frame digging into the artificial skin of his hands.  He stumbled against the wall, unable to keep his balance as his body was trembling too much. He couldn't do this anymore.

Was this how Rose felt back then? A spike of not quite real pain flashed through him at the thought of her. He wasn't supposed to think about her. He had been able to avoid thinking about her for so long. Pretended she didn't exist, that all of it had just been a dream. But there was only so much he could trick his mind into.  All the lies he told himself to make it easier, were just lies in the end. He missed her, and that emotion was so real that it was painful now.

_Forget her, don't think about her._

Her warm smile, her soft hands, the perfume she sometimes put on, her silky hair, her laugh... her heartbeat, her warm body and the gentle touches. He felt himself gasp, the pain being so real now that he couldn't just pretend it wasn't there anymore. It hurt. It made his heart race, and even though his body wasn't physically responding in a way a normal human's body would, he knew the body was reacting to the extreme emotions at that moment.

He was glad no one had him under surveillance anymore. It would have only brought up unnecessary questions of people he should have never trusted.

Still, he wished he could stop these emotions. Missing someone couldn't be that painful! It was ridiculous. But it felt so terrible at the same time. His eyes were burning with tears. It had been his own fault. He was at fault for all of this, he could have come up with a better plan.  He could have told them. Now it was too late. They were too far away, no matter how close they were.

John looked so happy when he was with his new friends, so happy that it was even more painful to not being able to take part in any of what his son was doing. The boy had grown to be a young man now, he was so independent. They had moved on. He had wanted them to. Rose wouldn't dwell. Another lie. He knew how much Rose loved him. How was she doing? He had no way to tell. He couldn't just ask someone either.

He was so close to just call her. So often he had punched in the number of the telephone in their house... so often he had almost pressed the green button, only to let the phone sink. He couldn't endanger them in any way.

He just wanted to hear her voice. Just once more. 

He had barely realized he had sunken to the ground, leaning against the wall, the picture still clutched in his hands. He traced the slim face of his wife with a finger. She was so beautiful, her smile was stunning.

He swallowed the tears away. He couldn't. He had done this to them. It was them who were allowed to grieve. Not him.  They were out there, alive, probably doing well.

He had gotten through worse, and yet nothing seemed worse than this. And then he had his phone in his hand again. The call was already accepted before he even registered what he was doing.

"Hello?"

Her voice. It still sounded the same. It felt good to hear it. She sounded normal, cheerful even. He bit his lip, he couldn't say anything. She would notice immediately.

"Hello?" she asked again. "Who's there?"

He ended the call before he could make a terrible mistake, absentmindedly ran the sleeve of his shirt over his face. So the tears had won this time. He didn't care. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to let them run freely. There was no one there who would judge him for it, anyway.

He realized that wasn't even the problem. He wanted someone to see that something was wrong. Yet, he was playing his role too well. Way too well. No one suspected a thing. So Rose had taught him something over all the years, he assumed. But what did it matter?

If he blew his cover just to talk to them... he couldn't take this anymore.

Already he dreaded the work he still had to finish, papers to grade, essays to look through. He'd do it all in one evening just to distract himself.

 Who cared about sleep?


End file.
